


A Lovely Little Tune

by deanbennylife (kams_log)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Benny Lives, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hunting, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/deanbennylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny liked to whistle to get Dean’s attention. Dean learned to attune himself to the sounds Benny made when he whistled, and sometimes they brought pleasant surprises his way. </p>
<p>Dean really liked it when Benny whistled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Little Tune

Benny liked to whistle to get Dean’s attention. He’s not really sure when it started. Maybe in Purgatory, when Benny alerted Dean to incoming monsters and attacks. But even when they escaped, Benny would often whistle tunes along to the radio, give a quick sharp whistle when something was wrong. 

Dean learned to attune himself to the sounds Benny made when he whistled. When Benny was happy, he’d give a little tune of anything. Usually something upbeat, pleasant and rolling and whistling something to get both of them in a stupid, smiling stupor. 

He hummed too, often when they went to bed at night. Benny would pull Dean tight into his embrace and hum some old lullaby he’d heard as a child over a hundred years ago. It’d always put Dean right to sleep in minutes, comforted by the low vibrations rumbling from Benny’s throat and the hot breath by his forehead and temple.

In the morning he’d whistle as he made coffee. Pancakes and bacon would be out shortly, and Dean was always wide awake and quick to help. Sam would come stumbling in an hour later, just in time to catch Dean kill a whistle mid-beat. 

It went on like that. Sometimes during hunts, Benny would give a sharp whistle, short and sharp, just enough to catch Dean’s attention in time to stop a threat. 

Sam also grew attuned to Benny’s whistling. He often called it the ‘Dean Whistle’ for how quick Dean came running when he heard it.   
Dean would roll his eyes and smack Sam in the shoulder.

But it didn’t stop his habits. And he’d keep on running whenever Benny whistled, whether Benny needed him or not. 

There was a reassuring sound to it. It put Dean at ease. 

But it almost killed him when he almost lost it. A werewolf cut a nasty gash along Benny’s throat. It wasn’t enough to kill him; it was nowhere near a decapitation. But Benny didn’t talk or whistle for a few days after that, even after Benny got the blood he needed and the wound healed. 

Dean picked up the slack for him. He’d hum Benny to sleep, play with his hair until the snores rumbled in. He made sure to get up before Benny woke, made breakfast himself and practiced his whistling until he got the tune down and Benny walked in, a dopey smile playing at his sleep covered face. 

Benny would then pull Dean into his embrace and kiss him so hard breakfast nearly burned. Sam wasn’t pleased, but neither Dean or Benny cared. They traded smiles over eggs and hash browns. 

When Benny whistled again, Dean’s head snapped up in an instant. It had been over a week, maybe two since Benny stopped whistling. 

He scrambled off the couch where he’d been watching old soap opera reruns, and made it down the hall before stopping in front of the door to his and Benny’s room. 

He opened the door and stared. Benny stood on the other side, a large, shy grin stretching across his face. 

“You whistled,” Dean said, somewhat stupidly. Benny just grinned and stepped forward. 

“That I did,” he replied. His hands were behind his back, but he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. “Got somethin’ for you.” 

Dean stared at him as Benny pulled his hands from behind him. A gold ring sat between his fingers. A bright blue jewel sat at the crest. Dean’s eyes widened. 

“Marry me, cher?” 

Dean grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, hard. When he pulled back, Benny was beaming, his eyes light like stars. He whistled long and low.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Dean kissed him again. Benny didn’t get a chance to whistle again till the next morning. When they came out again, Dean had blue and gold on his hand.


End file.
